Modern Romanticism

Painless,
because all of it
should have been
without these smears,
without those tears
carving scars from burns,
from a scorched face.

You've been heated,
because you were cheated,
while this rain,
from your heart,
can't smother a torch
branding your hands
in repeated messages.

You hold that light
before desolate eyes,
keeping your path
clear as your spite.

This warmth
from a summer's day
welcomes you to pray.
But words do not
leak from your lips.

Hope does not
melt you into the sand,
wanting to be carved
into someone beautiful.

You are just begging
for a solid answer,
as you are receiving
more of the same
from another downpour.